The Game You Play (Rixon Raiders 2)

There was every chance she was asleep. But it wasn’t good enough. I needed to see her, to hear her side of what happened.

I needed to know she was fucking okay.

Me: I need her number.

Hailee: No way.

Me: Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.

Hailee: If I do this, and I haven’t decided I will yet, you have to promise me not to hurt her. Ever.

Shit. How could she expect me to agree to that?

Hailee: So.... what’ll it be?

Me: I promise to only ever do what I think’s best for her...

Hailee: Jason, that isn’t the same thing.

Me: It’s all I have right now. What’s it going to be, little sis? Am I getting her number or am I breaking and entering your best friend’s house?

Hailee: JASON!!! Don’t you dare...

Me: I’m joking.

For the most part. Because I wasn’t leaving without seeing Felicity. Another text came through with a cell phone number. I added it to my contacts and opened a new message chat.

Me: Open your door.

Felicity: Who is this?

Me: Come find out...

A couple of minutes passed, and I was beginning to think she’d barricaded herself inside while she waited for the authorities to arrive. But then the curtain twitched and a couple seconds later, the door creaked open. “Jason?” Felicity yelped. “What are you—”

“Don’t I get an invitation inside?” I forced my eyes to stay on her face and not her bare legs.

“Why would I invite you inside?” She glared at me. “And what are you doing at my house anyway? It’s late. I was asleep.”

“Just open the damn door, Felicity,” I breathed out. “Hailee told me what happened last night with Thatcher.”

“So you came over here to do what exactly?” Her lips pursed, taunting me. Her eyes daring me to admit it.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

Silence stretched out before us while Felicity waited for me to make my choice.

“Fine, woman. I came because the second I heard he had his hands on you, I wanted to kill something.” Preferably him.

Bitter laughter spilled out of her soft lips. “So you’re jealous? That’s it?” Her brow shot up in challenge.

“Jealous of Thatcher?” I seethed. “I’m not fucking jealous.”

“No? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you are. Didn’t you like hearing Thatcher and his friend had their hands on my body? They were so close to me, I could feel the warmth of their breath against my skin.” My body began to tremble with rage as she kept talking. Kept describing what Thatcher and his guy had done to her.

“Felicity...”

“What, Jason?” she said, sharply. “Does it hurt to hear they wanted me? That they wanted to hurt me? Because I think he would have. I think he would have taken me right there—”